


Apron Inevitabilities

by AshenStardust



Category: The Boys (TV 2019)
Genre: Baking, Communication, F/M, Female!Reader - Freeform, Inspired by that one time Butcher had an apron on, POV Second Person, Rough Sex, Smut, porn w/ minimal plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:47:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27168856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshenStardust/pseuds/AshenStardust
Summary: The Reader accidentally walks in on Butcher baking. Their relationship has been intimate but not sexual, not until now.
Relationships: Billy Butcher/reader, William Butcher/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 126





	Apron Inevitabilities

**Author's Note:**

> Butcher looks good in an apron, but shoveling viscera is Not the hottest thing in the world.

From the sweet smell in the air you knew Frenchie was baking. You smiled to yourself and stretched out on the bed. Baked goods sounded perfect for breakfast, or… Lunch? You groped around for your phone. It was midmorning.

“Did you go home last night?”

The unread message from Butcher caught you off guard. You grumbled as you got out of bed. You hadn’t made it home, but he clearly had not made it back. Well, at least you didn’t have to look forward to him chastising you for sleeping in his bed.

You followed your nose to the kitchen and rubbed at your eyes. “Good morning Frenchie,” you mumbled and stopped dead in your tracks. You blinked a few times. Butcher looked caught out, holing a pan of pastries and wearing an apron. You opened your mouth to say something but closed it when you noticed he was blushing.

“You’re not supposed t’be here,” he grumbled.

“Secret will die with me,” you promised and grabbed a pastry from one of the pans that had already cooled. The island finally had seating, so you pulled out a chair and slumped over the counter.

Butcher grunted in response and you pretended to be interested in the pastries until he turned away. You stared at him. He was dusted with flour and cocoa powder and sugar. The apron was tied loosely around his waist and you wondered if you could die from how endearingly domestic he looked.

“Will you stop starin’?”

You startled at his words but recovered quickly. When he turned you met his stare easily. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you defended innocently. 

Butcher seemed to take your words as a challenge. He smirked and took a step forward so the island was the only thing between you. “You sleep in my bed. You wear my clothes…” He looked you over and you had to look away. “I have half a mind to bend you over the counter and have my way with you.”

Your eyes snapped back to his. “Do it.” Your tone held as much warning as his had, but yours held less gravity when you had to shift in your seat in a vain effort to diffuse some of your arousal.

Something changed in Butcher. There was a hesitancy like he hadn’t expected you to challenge him back. You watched as he worked through himself, finally settling on predator. Your heart began to race and there was a growing thrill in your belly that he might grab you, haul you over the counter, and fuck you there and then.

Your new dynamic was interrupted by Frenchie, who walked in with two armfuls of groceries. He eyed you both as he put away his haul of ingredients. “Are you two going to fuck already?”

But the moment had passed, and reality had reigned logic on your thoughts. “No.” You grabbed another pastry. 

“No?” Butcher echoed, indignant.

You looked at him and shrugged. You’d catch feelings, grow attached, and be left heartbroken. As if you weren’t already attached. You pursed your lips and turned your attention back to the pasty. This attachment was manageable. It wouldn’t be so heartbreaking when Butcher moved on. 

“These are really good, Frenchie,” you commented. Anything to change the subject.

“You will have to compliment Monsieur Charcutier. They are his creation.”

You eyed Butcher. You honestly thought he was just helping Frenchie. “You should bake more often.” Fuck. You couldn’t help yourself, could you? It wasn’t your fault he looked so damn delectable in an apron.

His smirk was back. He still had you. Of course, he did. He probably always would. You snapped yourself from your thoughts. “Do you need help with transportation today?”

“Er, no. We agreed yesterday to take today off,” Frenchie informed you. You could tell whoever had forgotten to tell you was going to get an earful from both Frenchie and Butcher.

“Oh.” Well that was your cue to leave. You stood and started to walk away. “Thanks for breakfast,” you called over your shoulder, but Butcher was right behind you.

He put a hand on your arm, and you stopped walking. “Where do you think you’re going?” He walked around you to block your way.

“To shower. It’s not like I can do it here,” you huffed.

“I’m comin’ with ya.”

You rolled your eyes but knew better than to argue. You gestured him out the building and followed him. He waited for you to unlock the door to your car and took the driver’s seat. You were fine to let him drive and handed over your keys. The drive to your apartment was held in utter silence. It was almost awkward, but you didn’t know what to say. You didn’t know what he wanted.

You unlocked your apartment and knew Butcher would make himself at home. The shower sprung to life and you savored the chance to be clean. Your soaps and your razor and your hot water heater. On days like this you wondered why you were still fighting against superheroes. You knew you had a good reason. You had to have a good reason.

It wasn’t until your fingers pruned that you finally got out of the shower. You dressed in something comfortable and fussed with your hair enough for it to be out of your way. Butcher was flipping through channels in your living room and didn’t even look over when you came out of the bathroom.

“You can shower if you want,” you commented as you flopped down beside him on the couch. 

“That means you want me to shower, don’t it?” he asked but he was standing and heading over anyway.

You frowned at the spot he left. Some of the flour had transferred. Soon enough you heard the shower start up and you brushed off the cushion now that he couldn’t hear you do it. He took as long as you must’ve done and came out in new clothes. His hair was tousled and damp, but he looked healthier. The grime contributed greatly to you and the team looking dead all the time. The grime and lack of sleep.

He looked past you to the television. “Find anything good.”

“I think so.”

His eyes returned to yours and he raised a brow at your staring. “Now, now. I thought we weren’t going to fuck.”

“Changed my mind.” You stood and walked the few steps to stand before him. You were practically chest to chest, and you stared up at him. “Gave some thought to you bending me over the counter and having your way with me,” you murmured. 

“What thought was that?”

You frowned but played along. You had denied him earlier, and he loved to get even. “That if you don’t do it, I’ll have to find someone that will.”

“Well, that just won’t do,” he growled. He leaned in to kiss you, rough and hungry, and used your distraction to grab your wrists. He turned you around, pinning your wrists behind your back, and bending you over the couch. You gasped and whimpered.

Butcher shifted so he held both of your wrists in one hand and used the other to push your pants and underwear down your legs. The front of his legs went flush to the backs of yours and his hand delved into your folds. “Wet already?” He was only half-condescending. If anything, you swore he was in awe of you.

He wasted little time freeing himself from his pants and you felt his cockhead at your entrance. You pushed your hips back, but he was careful about how much control he allowed you. He slicked himself on your pussy and you whined. “Butcher, I mean it, I’ll find someone else,” was not the best thing to say, but you weren’t about to beg. 

The noise he was going to make got stuck in his throat. Enough came out that you knew you were in for trouble, and that he was trying to control himself from going too far. He pushed in slowly and you moaned. He was thick and the stretch was exquisite against your arousal. He settled his hips against yours and you both cursed at the feel of him bottoming out.

You focused on your breathing and Butcher ground his hips into yours. The feeling was almost too much. His hard cock rubbed relentlessly at you. You could feel the walls of your cunt fluttering around him, begging him for more. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he groaned, and his accent thickened. He pulled out almost painfully slowly and thrust back in with a harsh snap of his hips. You grunted from the force of it and he started a punishing pace.

He thrust into your near viciously, but you were too vocal to slow him down. Occasionally he’d offset the pacing by grinding his hips against yours. You couldn’t tell if he preferred easy and slow or hard and fast. You certainly weren’t going to complain because he hit every sensitive spot within you.

At some point he let go of your wrists in favor of gripping your hips or the tops of your thighs. You knew you’d have bruises where his finger dug into your flesh. He used his grip to fuck you harder and you cried and moaned your pleasure. One of your hands found its way between you and the back of the couch and you circled your clit in pace with his fucking you. 

You groaned his name, and the sound became a chant on your lips. He grunted above you as he thrust into you and his pleasure mounted. “Cum on my cock, sweetheart,” he encouraged, and his voice was strained. “Always wanted to know what you look like in your pleasure. ‘ll have to save it for next time, eh?”

Next time? Fuck you weren’t sure you were handling it well this time. His words, nevertheless, pushed you to your peak and over the edge. Your orgasm rippled through you and you clenched so hard on his cock that his hips caught. You were half-aware that you screamed, but all you could hear was his moan. The feel of his back over yours, and his hot seed coating your walls nearly forced another orgasm from you. 

You were breathing too heavily, and you weren’t sure if you could move from where he had bent you over. Butcher waited until you caught your breath some before pulling out of you. Your arousal was already smeared across your thighs and his cum joined it in trailing down your legs.

He put soft, guiding, hands around your shoulders when you didn’t immediately straighten. “You alright?”

No. That had been amazing, and you weren’t alright, and you felt like crying. “Um.” When had your hands started shaking? You opened your mouth to explain, to say anything, but he shushed you and helped you to the bathroom. You had washcloths folded on a shelf and he took one, wetted it, and knelt before you. He ran the cloth carefully between your legs and cleaned you up.

He looked up at you as he pulled your pants back up. “What’s wrong?”

“I wasn’t-,” you cut yourself off, “you weren’t-“ how were you supposed to say this? “It wasn’t supposed to be like that.”

Butcher stood and chuckled. He’d already taken care of himself and he guided you to your bed. “How was it supposed to be?” he asked. You sat down and held your hands together because they hadn’t stopped shaking.

“It was supposed to be sad and mediocre,” you admitted, almost annoyed. If the sex was bad you could forget about it and go back to the way things were. Now everything was complicated.

Butcher gave you a strange look. “It was just sex-“

“I know!” You stood as you shouted and paced away from him. “I feel safe with you Butcher,” you glared at him as you paced the length of the other side of the room. “I sleep in your bed and I wear your clothes. I can’t fuck you and have it mean nothing, change nothing.” You stopped pacing and rubbed your hands over your face in frustration. You’d spilled your fucking heart to the heartless.

You continued pacing and when he didn’t say anything you pointed to the door. “Leave.” You didn’t look at him. “Get out.” The words left you harsher than he deserved. You’d reject him any day over him rejecting you. He was moving and you turned to watch him go, only he was walking toward you.

“What makes you so sure this changes things?” He wasn’t touching you, but he was in your space. “Hell, you got enough of my clothes in that dresser I could live here. We’ve been dancing around this for months.” He reached for you then and you didn’t flinch away when he touched you. “I’ll be good to ya, yeah?”

And there was something unspoken in what he said. He’d be good until he was gone, or you were. You both knew your platonic relationship wouldn’t last, the only difference now was you might have a bit more fun. You swallowed hard. You were doomed to say yes. “Okay,” you agreed. 

Butcher forced your eye contact. “You don’t have to say yes just ‘cause you wanna please me.” He was only half teasing. 

You reached up and grabbed onto his lapels lightly. “I’m saying yes because I like what we have, and, if you didn’t notice, it’s been a while since I’ve orgasmed like that,” you explained and tugged him closer so you could kiss him.

He kissed you back but pulled away sooner than you wanted. “Well, I’m always happy to provide.” He winked at you and you laughed, and it felt like normal might be in reach again.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos welcome and appreciated :) .


End file.
